Cabin Fever
by SecondLieutenant
Summary: Being trapped in one place for so long took a toll on Lady Corrin, the lonely princess of Nohr. An injury rendered her useless in battle. Her origins were shrouded in anonymity. Her attitude rotted like unwashed teeth. In such a position, a delirious state of longing, she was bound to eventually break.


**Author's Note: if you are the original artist of the artwork used for the cover and wish for me to remove it, please PM me.**

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 **Cabin Fever**

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Jakob remembered the first time he saw Corrin smile in many, many years. It came out of nowhere on a seemingly normal day, a day that did not hint at anything great. It just came. It simply arrived. It did not knock, nor did it warn. It appeared. Despite its horrid manners, Jakob gladly welcomed the coming. Why, it even invited him to smile crack a smile himself.

Jakob remembered that morning quite well. He awoke, oblivious to the fact that this morning was the morning that started it all. Never in a million years would he have supposed what was to unfold. What was to unfold was more than a mere event; it was to be the first domino to fall. The first domino to fall and conceive biggest deal of his life.

The morning began normally. After all, as far as he knew, it was a normal morning. He beat the sun to rise, curtly bringing himself out of bed. He stretched. Moaned. His feet spread across the cold stone of the floor. Had he not been awake before, the chill that rushed up his spine had him awake now. With his eyes wide, he lit a candle and dressed, focusing on the mirror far longer than most people. He had to look his best. It was part of the job to look as sharp as the daggers hidden beneath his penguin tail.

Actually, he had to disagree. What he did was more than a job, it was a lifestyle. A commitment. A pact. A responsibility. An obligation.

It had become so routine, he often forgot.

He took the walkway when he strode across the courtyard, afraid of dirtying his boots should he stride in the grass kissed by morning dew. His feet knew their way, even when the dark would not show him. He arrived spotlessly to the kitchen, whose door he shoved. Routine presented him the same sight as always: the cooks were away at the sink, washing pots and pans. The only thing that concerned him, however, sat beside the door: a cart packed with breakfast, covered to preserve precious heat.

Without bidding a good morning to his fellow workers, Jakob stole the cart and pushed it away, head held high and chest puffed. Routine had him roll down a stone corridor, passing by servants who breathed life into lamps. Routine had him turn down the right hall instead of the left when he met a fork. Routine had him mind himself when he came to a flight of stairs. Routine had him scale the stairs without the slightest issue.

The stairs seemed to go on forever, spiraling higher and higher. The time it took to get to the top seemed to lessen with each meal. On the other hand, Felicia, he was sure, got worse with each time she dared an attempt. It was a good thing she did not have breakfast duty as often as he did.

At the top of the flight, the last floor in the fortress, he passed by a small window, out of which he could peer and see the sun catching up to him. It peeked over the mountains, skimming over the horizon of the distant Windmire. To witness the sight each morning was a blessing, even in the dreary days of rain. Perhaps if he had Corrin awake fast enough, he could share the sight with her.

Oh, Corrin... As much as he loved to serve her, he had to admit that each trip to her room was accompanied by dread.

He strode down the hall, making his way to the only pair of doors. They stood tall, yet simple, crafted from heavy wood. He took a deep breath, straightened his collar and cuffs, then proceeded to knock. As expected, not a single answer greeted him, not even after waiting. That was his permission to nudge the doors ajar. Beyond dwelled darkness and inky dreariness. Though it was spacious, the room did not have enough furnishing to do it justice. A stream of pale morning light crept in through a gap between the curtains, and it stretched across the bed hiding behind a thick canopy. Behind that canopy Corrin rested, remaining in her slumber.

Cautious, Jakob guided the cart to the bed's side, parking it just before an undecorated nightstand. After a moment of contemplation, he wove his fingers together and lean forward no more than a smidgen.

"Milady?" he breathed. "I've brought your breakfast. It would do you best to rise and eat before it ruins. Porridge is not tasty when eaten cold."

There was no return. Typical. What was not typical, however, was the canopy blocking his view. So long as it was untied, he hesitated to reach and awaken her with his hands. He spent most of his time standing, wondering to himself uneasily. Corrin had laid out strict expectations for her retainers, and seldom was she forgiving when one was violated. To trespass beyond the canopy would surely have him in trouble. Then again, though, he almost had no choice.

Corrin's rules were rather contradictory in nature. If she took her food cold when it was meant to be hot, she would be furious. However, mere shouting could not awaken her for breakfast. More often than not, one had to shake her or, if one's name happened to be Felicia or Flora, chill her with an icy hand. Despite being aware of this, Corrin closed her canopy anyway, forbidding anyone from touching her. In the end, Jakob had no choice but to weigh his only two options and decide which was the least worst.

He figured a Corrin with a full stomach would not be quite as wrathful.

Softly, Jakob pushed aside the heavy drapery, and he took a peek. As expected, her body stretched across a mess of blankets and sheets, covered only by a light gown that worked its way up her thigh. In slumber she remained, each breath steady and deep, eyes fluttered shut. In a state such as this, she was tranquil. Peaceful. As much as he hated to admit it, this Corrin was far more desirable.

"Milady," he rang as he reached out to her. Gentle, he set a palm on her cheek and dared to rub her jaw with his thumb. It took doing, but eventually there came that anticipated moment in which two ruby eyes cracked open. They were just as red as always, but groggy. It would be any moment now. Any moment now she would rise as a vile tempest, thirsty for blood.

He knew it was that time when a pillow whacked his face.

"Jakob!" she screamed. "I've told all of you not to disturb me when the drapes are closed! Do you have a functional brain, you idiot?"

He stumbled away to recollect himself, departing from the nest with a sigh. Too frightened to move, Jakob stood still, steadying his breath as he waited for the beast to emerge. When a few minutes passed them, leaving him just as uneasy as before, he dared to step just a little ways closer, clearing his throat modestly.

"I've brought your breakfast, Lady Corrin," he announced softly. "It's best you eat before it gets cold. The covers only retain the heat for so long. Even worse, your porridge will turn too soggy to enjoy."

Initially, he figured she would not respond, but to his surprise, the drapes began to ruffle. A pale leg departed from the curtain, toes spreading across the tile as the rest of her body followed. The hem of her gown migrated to her knees, and at last, from the opening emerged her face, grim as a widow's. They stared at one another for reasons unknown. This did not take long, for the cart stole her interest. The interest did not last long either. Instead, her gaze found itself truly captivated by the sun peering through the window.

Thus marked the moment he saw her smile. How long had it been since he last saw her smile? He could not recall, nor did he care to rummage through the banks of his memory so he could. Instead, he concerned himself with soaking the moment like a sponge, for he once only dreamed of seeing such a face again. It was lovely. Why, it even invited a few foreign thoughts.

He discovered that the sight happened to be contagious, so testified the bright smirk that rose on either end of his lips.

"You're rather chipper this morning, milady," he commented. "How refreshing."

"Yes," she replied, making her way to the window. There, she brushed aside the curtains to peer outside. What did she see? Probably what he wanted to share with her: the sun dawning over the land, Windmire in its belly. "My father is supposed to come visit me today."

Visits from King Garon were rare in the Northern Fortress. The Northern Fortress was alienated from the rest of Nohr; any who glanced out the window to see her distant capital would surely notice. To have a family member visit meant heaps to Corrin, Jakob had noted long ago. Every once in a while, in no particular pattern, her siblings came to see her, but their stays were short winded. To escape a wrathful father, they needed to depart and rush back to Castle Krackenburg the soonest they could.

It was no lie, nor a secret: Corrin was lonely, having been locked away at the Northern Fortress, segregated from her family. Rumors had even begun to spread: Corrin had no relation to any of them at all, not even King Garon. She was the child of another family, kidnapped from youth and valued only as a bargaining chip. Her hair, an odd shade of white, did not bare even the slightest resemblance to Garon's wife or concubines. Not a soul knew why her eyes ran red, nor why the tips of her ears pointed like an elf's.

Most of all, none knew why she was to stay at the Northern Fortress, forbidden to set foot outside its walls. One thing was evident, however: it had a definite effect on her attitude. It worsened each year, anger growing. It teemed by now, pacified only by her siblings, the siblings that were probably not even hers.

Jakob did what he could to make her happy, which was, in the end, a lost cause.

He dressed her well that morning, choosing the finest clothes from her wardrobe and braiding her hair into intricate ropes. Upon finishing, he fought the urge to commemorate his own masterpiece. Corrin only thanked him because she was in a pleasant mood, which was a privilege. They quickly rushed outside, prepared to greet the incoming king.

Horses pulled a carriage along the stone path of the courtyard. As it passed, the young face of Elise could be seen peering out the window. She smiled at the sight of Corrin and greeted with a hefty wave. If they could hear her, they would hear her gush about her excitement. As expected, she was the first to soar out the vehicle the second it came to a stop, hair flying behind her.

"Coooooooriiiiiiiiiin!" she exclaimed. When she landed, she was in Corrin's arms, and they spun with laughter. They did not spin for long. To stop them was Camilla, who took Corrin by the jaw as she pulled her close. While admiring her, the woman proceeded to stroke her cascading locks.

"And how is my sweet baby sister?" she cooed like a dove, running a finger through a minor tangle. "You've grown a smidgen since I last saw you."

Corrin grinned.

"Hi Camilla," she greeted.

As expected, Leo and Xander were not as touchy in their reunion; they stood off to the side, watching the girls as they giggled and embraced. When their time came, Xander mustered a slight hug. Leo, a sophisticated boy, settled for a firm handshake before being forced into a hug as well. The reunion, like most, was a sweet one, making Jakob, a mere observer, relax. For the most part, they all were relaxed before a final visitor stepped out of the carriage. Out came the powerful, but aging, King Garon, his face stiff and plastered with emotionlessness. He and Corrin exchanged glances when the atmosphere quieted. Corrin marveled at him, eyes widening as she dared to draw closer.

"Hello father," she started timidly, voice trembling as she offered a humble bow. To this, Garon simply blinked his eyes and reached out with his hand. His mighty palm placed itself upon her crown, where the tips of his fingers eased down her forehead and temples. It was unclear to Jakob if he squeezed her.

"Hello, my child," he replied. "I have come to check on the condition of both you and the fortress. Have you faired well?"

She nodded curtly.

"Yes, father."

"Good. And your foot?"

"It's wonderful, father. I can run and skip and hop and leap again."

"Good then. Perhaps you can resume your training very soon."

It was true that Corrin had a bit of a problem. Many years ago, in a tragic freak accident, Corrin's right foot fell victim to a nasty twist. Xander's steed had ran over it unintentionally during training, and ever since then, Corrin had a slight, but ever present, limp in her walk. Back when she was bedridden with a thick cast that ran all the way up to her shin, Corrin showed her ugliest colors. Still did Jakob have nightmares of a furious girl calling for him, throwing whatever she could grab when he made even the slightest fluke.

It was because of that accident, Corrin could no longer train for combat as she had before, and it was the combat training that drove Corrin with ambition. Once strong enough to pull her own weight in battle like her siblings, King Garon had promised, Corrin could then leave the fortress and join the rest of them in Castle Krakenburg.

Corrin did not know that her fate was sealed the moment Xander's horse trampled her foot all those years ago. No matter how much time she spent in recovery, she was never again to be trained for proper battle. Too great was her injury. It was permanent, as was her stay at the Northern Fortress. Not a soul, including Jakob, had the heart to break such grave news to her for years, for it was the promise of finally living with her family that kept her inspired to rise in the morning.

Xander could not tell her. Leo could not tell her. Camilla could not tell her. Elise could not tell her. Felicia could not tell her. Flora could not tell her. Gunter could not tell her. And, of course, there was Jakob, whose heart sank for his lady time and time again. No matter what was done, he would eventually serve a captive girl, a captive girl angered beyond belief.

Now that Garon was here, it appeared that time was finally drawing nigh. Jakob shivered at the thought, knowing that each second brought them closer to an ugly reveal.

What failed to help were the events that unfolded during the day. Jakob followed Corrin throughout the castle, who in turn followed Garon. She consistently trotted to his side, leaning to peer around his broad shoulders in hopes of admiring his wrinkling expression. Her eyes widened curiously each time, and a slight smile spread across her lips.

"Father? Since you have come to visit me for the day, would you care to play a game of chess with me in the courtyard? Leo used to tell me of the heated matches he shared with you. I've had Jakob help me practice my skills so that I would be an opponent worthy of your time."

Garon kept his eyes forth, however.

"Chess is a characteristic of the bond I share with my youngest son. I have not played it with any of my other children, and I plan to keep it that way, that way I may guard its sacredness."

"Oh. I see. You have different things that you do with all your children, just like how you sparred with Xander or drank tea with Camilla or went to see plays with Elise. That means we have to find something only we do together, right father? We should do that today. There are so many things to pick from, though... What's a fun and sophisticated activity? Observing nature? Spying on birds?"

Garon stopped suddenly, having the two follow. Though he should have been minding his own business, Jakob eyed back and forth between the two. He could think of plenty of things they would enjoy, but he knew better than to dare butting into a conversation in which he had no place. As far as he was concerned, he was only there to serve should they call.

"I'm getting older, therefore I tire easily. I am not interested in doing anything with you as of now, Corrin." He turned around, having her copy him. It was then Jakob witnessed the demise of the light in Corrin's eyes; they became dull. Disappointed. "Instead, let us go to the dining room. Your siblings should already be in there, for lunch will be in no more than an hour."

"Y-Yes, father. That sounds agreeable."

And it was that day, Jakob confirmed, Corrin had both the brightest of smiles and the bitterest of tears.

In the dining room hours later, the family congregated over supper, sitting beneath the candlelight of a chandelier hanging far above their heads. The servants, Jakob included, finished passing out the first course: a light chowder served in a bowl no wider than a palm. Standing to the side of the table, Jakob curiously watched the scene unfold, able to expertly cloak his audience. The family chatted amongst each other between spoonfuls. The women seemed to get along just fine, as though the world had no problems. Leo minded his own business, occasionally injecting comments into the conversation.

Garon and Xander, however, were who truly caught Jakob's watchful eyes. Sitting at his right, Xander first seemed to either ignore or not be aware of Garon's stiff motions; he took another bite each time there was an attempt to get his attention. Or was it some sort of signal? It was, so far, nothing short of a mystery. There came a time, however, when Xander lifted his head, directing it toward his father. The man gave the younger a curt nod, gazing coldly into his eyes. Strangely, Xander did not seem to take the command well, for he set down his spoon with a sigh. His brows raised worriedly.

A simple clear of the throat silenced the room, capturing all the attention like a net. Holding the floor, Xander directed his gaze to Corrin, to whom he could not smile. In an instant, Jakob's heart caught fire, and his eyes widened. A simple look at Flora and Felicia, who tended to the other side of the room, told him that he did not suffer an upset stomach alone.

"Sister," Xander spoke to Corrin. "Father and I had a discussion today, and I was insisted to bare this news tonight over dinner." He glanced briefly back at his father. "I am happy to see that your foot no longer gives you pain, but... It is unfixable now, and even the slightest of limps will hinder you in battle. Father has decided that he will no longer permit our training. Henceforth, you are to be considered disabled. Never shall your toes dig into the dirt of a battlefield."

Silence followed. Dread clouded in the room as each set of eyes dared to slowly turn to her. Standing from behind, Jakob could only imagine the expression that swept across her face. Would she be as quick to display her rage, even in front of her beloved family? Corrin was a completely different girl when nobody was home; she lashed out with ease, degrading name after name without a second thought.

With only good intentions, Jakob approached her, peering over her shoulder gently. He saw her grip on her spoon. It trembled violently, clinking against the rim of the bowl over and over again. When the noise grew too feverish, Jakob reached out and softly took the hand into his own.

"Milady? Is there a thing I can do for you?" he inquired.

Corrin paused then, her hand growing still. Her eyes went down to the soup dully, begging not to weep. Instead, she occupied herself by setting her other hand upon the rim of the bowl, where she ran her finger over its elaborate design. They were roses, hand etched to create a vine circling around the piece. It was a lovely sort of china.

What a shame.

She whipped around, hurling the bowl at him. The moment it collided with his chest, the scalding chowder splattered over his suit. Surprised, he stumbled back, and the piece shattered the moment it hit the ground.

"D-Dash it!" he hissed as he struggled to wipe the food off of him. He could not lie: it hurt. It hurt very, very badly. Badly enough to have him beg to jump out of his skin. Corrin, however, would not let him struggle for long, for she bolted out of her seat and delivered a punch to his jaw.

"What _can_ you do for me, you bastard?" Another punch followed.

It did not take long before Leo and Xander were on their feet as well, rushing to restrain her before she could exact a third blow. Their strong arms held either hand to hold her back against her struggles. Her eyes, animalistic, would not abandon her servant.

"Get ahold of yourself, sister!" Leo urged, enduring the weight when she began to thrash. She kicked, screamed even, in attempt to break free from her captors. They refused to budge. Jakob eased farther away, soon backing himself into the wall as he gasped for breath.

"Take me with you," Corrin wheezed. "Take me with you! I don't want to stay here anymore! I want to go home! Take me with you!" She burst into tears at last, wailing before finally collapsing onto the floor now dirtied by soup and porcelain shards. Little did she care; her knees dug into the shards as she cried, and it was those cries that stained their memories forever.

Jakob sighed after shedding his suit. Once again, it had been a long day's work running about his feet. In his quarters, congested but tidy, he took the time to study himself in the mirror. Again, this demanded a heave from his lips, for his eyes ran over the patch that ran from his chest down to his belly. There, his skin sweltered, rippling like an ocean's waves. Two weeks had not made the burn go away. What a shame; his body would likely bare a great scar forever. Then again, it was not as though he tried to impress anyone. His duty as a butler and protector could never be overshadowed by something as selfish as love... And it was not as if a woman that tickled his fancy would ever show up in a secluded place like the Northern Fortress anyhow.

Well... There was one woman to whom he would not mind being a lover, but the thought itself was very silly.

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear, he was once told.

A knock rang at his door. The sound was mild, mild enough to have him believe that he would not have heard it had he not been moving at the time. He lifted his head from the mirror, clearing his throat as he eased closer to the shut door. Steadily, he leaned against it.

"What is it?" he inquired.

"It's Flora. Lady Corrin requests dinner from you."

He frowned, then decided to open the door, out of which he peeked. There, of course, stood Flora, still dressed in her maid garb with her hands crossed over her thighs.

"I don't believe it," he said to her. "Lady Corrin hasn't come out of her room for weeks, much less utter a word to us. You must be putting words in her mouth instead of respecting her desire for comfort. Shame on you."

"Shame on me? I'm simply relaying orders. Shame on you for accusing me of lying. When I say Lady Corrin has rung for food, she has rung for food. Are you willing to disobey orders _just_ because you're skeptical?"

Jakob responded with a frown, narrowing his eyes coldly. It was that question that had him scaling the stairwell for the umpteenth time, dragging a cart of supper along with him. Because of his experience, never did he have to worry about spilling whatever he lugged. Even so, he grew nervous.

Two weeks ago, King Garon, along with his four children, left the fortress on a negative note. Corrin threw a fit following her assault on Jakob. Even though it was a common side for her, her siblings had never seen such a beast. They failed to even bid her farewell before departing, for they could not get into her room. Corrin remained in there ever since, reigning fury on any that dared to enter, regardless of their intentions. The most her servants could do was shove a cart of supper into the room, hoping she would eat. To their surprise, and horror, the cart only rushed straight out of the door again and crashed into the wall of the corridor.

To have her suddenly request food was odd. Sudden. Curious.

Anxious, Jakob pushed open the postern to the grand room, pulling the supper along with him. Though he expected signs of a tantrum, such as chairs overturned or vase shards scattered across the floor, Jakob found the room in fine shape. If anything, it was just as clean as it normally was. Empty, of course, but clean.

He scanned the area briefly, searching for a certain white-haired girl. So far, she was nowhere to be seen... that was until he swiveled the cart up to the nightstand beside the bed. It was there, atop the comforter, he found Corrin, laying on her side with her face buried in the youth of a thick novel. Jakob sighed in relief, then, as he checked the oil in the lantern, presumed with his business.

"Good evening, Lady Corrin," he spoke softly. "You requested dinner?" His answer was the turning of a page. He continued to talk anyway. "I've brought your favorite: chicken and bread. Which would you like first?"

Though it was delayed, the book shut, and slowly, with nothing more than a grunt, she brought herself up, hanging her legs over the side of her bed. The difference between her right and left foot were subtle, but noticeable. One was straight; normal. The other was crooked. The dullness of her eyes grasped more than its share of attention. Her frown set him down a course of uneasiness.

"If father invested more time in me, do you think we would read together?" she inquired. The first words she said to him in two weeks. It was an odd question he had a difficult time answering. He took the time to ponder his response carefully, stroking his chin with his nimble fingers.

"I don't know King Garon as well as you, milady, so I cannot answer that question. I imagine he would at least do something if you lived with him at the castle."

"My question requires only a yes or a no. Answer it."

He felt a tear of sweat roll down his neck.

"E-Erm... N-No. I see him choosing to instead do something else."

Before anything else could happen, to his surprise, he found the book being held in front of him. His eyes, curious, wandered up the hardback, soon down Corrin's arm. Like always, he was led to her face, where their gazes met.

"Would you read to me then?" followed shortly after. Though baffled from the request, Jakob's hand promptly reached out, taking the binding without a sound. _The Requiem of Dissonance_ , the cover read in simple, uninspired text. To this, Jakob raised a prejudice brow.

"Oh dear. A classic from the Lockstein Era. This sounds more like something your brother would read. Is this a book you picked out yourself?"

"I need help getting to sleep, so someone should read it to me."

Jakob chuckled.

"A bedtime story then? You seem a bit too old for those." Nonetheless, he pulled a chair from the front of the fireplace, leading it to the side of the bed. He sat himself upon its plushness, crossing one leg over the other as he made sure to mind the canopy tied to the bedpost. Before doing anything more, he took the time to study the length that was in his hands. The book was thick, more than novel-like, and heavy. He later would think it could make a superb doorstop. "Did you leave off on any particular chapter?"

"You can start over. Read me one chapter."

That must have been because she wanted him to be tuned in to the story as well. How considerate of her.

Then came the moment in which he unveiled the first page, blank as a slate, which led him to the words it hid underneath. Even with how old-fashioned of a man Jakob was, he had to admit that the text bored him. It was small print, its words over exaggerated and bulky. Some of the words, to his embarrassment, were words he did not know how to pronounce, much less define. It was no surprise to see Corrin had fallen asleep just a few minutes in. Though he could have stopped then, he proceeded to read the whole chapter as she had requested. Upon finishing, he closed its bindings gently and motioned to the lantern. A simple wick of breath made the room dark, dreary, and inky. As he rose to his feet, placing the novel on the nightstand, he turned to her sleeping form. For just a moment, he ran a hand through the length of her tresses.

"Best of dreams to you, milady." As he started to pull away, however, a hand reached out to him, gripping his wrist firmly. The motion had him stop in his tracks, eyes widening. He saw her shadow rise, back hunching before straightening it. Her thick locks slid down her shoulders smoothly, their volume bouncing. To this, Jakob blinked. "M-My apologies, Lady Corrin, I must have awoken you.

Her grip tightened just a smidgen before she tugged him closer. He effortlessly went along with her motions, feeling his thighs as they brushed against the side of the bed. He felt a forehead pressed against his chest, burying itself deep into the folds of his suit. It came to rest soon, and he felt a huff warm his clothes.

"Jakob," she sounded. "I'm so sorry. You've been a faithful servant all these years, and yet I return that devotion with nothing. I don't deserve the service of anyone like you."

He started to shiver suddenly, for a chill rushed up his spine. He grit his teeth.

"Hear now, that's silly talk, Lady Corrin," he replied quickly. "A beautiful young woman such as yourself doesn't need to lift a finger. I am willing to serve you to my maximum."

"Why?"

"It is my duty to serve you, and I do not take my duties lightly. Allow me to take this time to reassure you of my persistence. Wherever you are to go, I am to follow."

She nodded before pulling her head from him. When she looked up at him, her gaze narrowed.

"Stay the night with me," she replied softly.

Almost immediately, a flush erupted on his cheeks.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I can't stand this room. It's empty. Nobody is here but me. Stay here to make it less lonely."

He could not disobey a command.

He ended up laying next to her, on a bed that did not belong to him. Sure a suit was not the most comfortable thing to lie in, but she refused to let him out of her sight, not even to dress in sleeping clothes. The weight he felt beside him kept his eyes from shutting, kept his breath from softening. Every once in a while, when that weight shifted to roll over, his heart would skip a beat, leaving it faster than before. Soon enough, he felt as though he had run up and down the stairs as many times as his fingers could count. Corrin tossed and turned, breath unsteady. The ruckus invited him to turn his head, watching her shadow as it shifted time after time. Without a lick of doubt, she was dreadfully uncomfortable. Could it have been the addition of his presence? Or was she always like this?

"Milady?" he whispered. "Do you have an issue? Not comfortable? Should I fluff your pillow or ready fresh blankets?" He found it trying to imagine her being uncomfortable in such a plush bed. Shortly afterward, he silently insulted himself for asking such a silly question.

In the end, it did not seem to matter, for he received no response. Corrin simply rolled over one last time before she steadily began to slither closer to him, smoothly scarfing his neck with an arm. As he was busy being flustered over that, he failed to initially notice something relatively worse: a leg coming to rest over his boney hip. Every breath, whether it be from the nose or mouth, tickled his ear.

"Jakob..." she whispered. As his eyes eased over to the side, he waited for her to continue. It never came about, lost to the rhythm of deep inhales. He rolled his eyes then, making light of it all by chuckling.

"Sleep-talking. I would have never guessed such from you, my Lady Corrin..."

He awoke to the sound of the door opening. It never failed to have his eyes bolt open, almost panicked. It was like that every morning, as far as he could recall. The subtle tweets of wheels rolled into the room, his potent ears promised, and with it, based off the clumsy footsteps, came Felicia. The noise did not bother him then as much as it did a few seconds later, when he brought his head up. The canopy was closed: Corrin's doing from the night before. Off his chest slid the doorstop, halfway through the the fifth chapter. He must have fallen asleep while reading it. He could not blame himself.

"Lady Corrin! Good morning! I've brought your breakfast. U-Um... sorry, but uh... The kitchen's out of oats, so the cooks couldn't make you any oatmeal today. We just received a shipment of eggs, though! They're scrambled, just the way you like them. It's good when things still go your way, right?"

Corrin was still, remaining sprawled across better than half the bed. Her body, which had been motionless for hours, finally budged, even though it was slight. She trumpeted a thick, groggy moan before turning onto her belly.

"I'll eat later," she grumbled.

"A-Are you sure? The food will get cold very soon if you don't eat..."

"I said I'll eat it later."

"O-Okay then. Sorry to ask, but, uh, have you seen Jakob? My sister went to find him when you asked for dinner last night, but we haven't seen him since. He's been disappearing a lot for the past few days."

Felicia, obeying the orders that forbad her from peering inside the canopy, would soon find her faithfulness blinding. As she babbled on, Jakob watched as Corrin, with a low growl, reached above her. Her hand, slender but rough, snatched one of her pillows and hurled it out of the canopy.

"I said I'll eat later! Leave me be!"

He heard Felicia release a squeal, followed by a, "yes ma'am", before hearing her feet scamper out of the room. When the doors slammed shut, Corrin released a sigh, then rolled over. She gazed at him blankly.

"You didn't finish reading last night," she growled. "Bad servants don't complete a task given to them."

He colored. Five consecutive nights of reading said that this was the first time he had not finished a chapter. He could not help it, for he had been overworked the day before. Only luck would have Corrin shed mercy on him.

"You have my utmost apologies, milady," he spat nervously, rising up. This only led to him being yanked back down, and the moment his back returned to the bed, his eyes widened. Corrin climbed on top of him, seating herself upon his hip. She gazed down on him as a judge, frowning at his pale face.

"It's only fair that I discipline a disobedient servant, isn't it?"

Pitifully, he mustered a slight nod, closing his eyes. Though he could not foresee what sort of punishment she had in mind, he did not imagine it to be pleasant. His face worked up a cringe.

"As you see fit," he agreed.

She unsnapped the pearls on his night flannel in a matter of seconds, exposing his bare chest, which had seldom seen the light of day. It was sickly pale, sporting the sweltered patch which ran between a nub and the subtle ripples on his belly. He cringed even more so, daring to open his eyes, where they met hers. The red ran deep with interest, intrigued by the sight at which she marveled. She placed a finger on him, starting at his neck. It traced a line all the way down to his belly button, whose insides it fondled. He fought the urge to struggle beneath her.

"Perhaps you don't need anymore on you than what's already been done here. That soup was very hot after all. I'm sorry." Without another word, she hopped off of him, leaving his chest still exposed to the cold morning air. Seconds later, as he modestly started to button his top again, he felt her plop next to him, stretching and moaning.

The morning itself was nothing extraordinary. Corrin did not touch her eggs, and she claimed not to like them when he asked why. Instead, she chose to munch only on fruit as she sat before the dresser, allowing him to run a brush through the length of her hair. Once ready for the day, she insisted that he followed her. At first, Jakob figured she wished for his following because she had something important to be done, something that required his help or supervision. Instead, his thoughts were proven wrong; Corrin did not do a thing but seat herself out in the courtyard to laze around like a cat.

She just wanted company.

"Milady? You appear quite bored, so may I suggest an activity of sorts?" She remained still, looking up at the roof of the gazebo that hovered over their heads. Had he not been watching her, he would have missed the nod she gave him. Pleased, he stiffly made his way to the chessboard, which he drug before her. "How does a game sound to you? Our last match was a tight one. Do you remember how fun the tension between us was?"

She looked at the board.

"No," she replied sharply. "I wouldn't care to play chess ever again."

Jakob felt his brows furrow according to their own will, and his feet delivered him to the bench without his instruction. He stood at her side, looking down at her with a slight frown.

"Lady Corrin, I am sorry your father did not choose to spend time with you, but you cannot remain bitter about it forever. We only have so much time on this earth. Why spend all of it angered?"

She rose suddenly, seeming to ignore him as she strode over to the side of the gazebo, where she leaned against its railings.

"I suppose, but on the contrary, why should I spend all of it trapped in this confounded fortress either?" she argued, leaving him without a response. As he stood still, perhaps thinking to himself, she turned around, gazing at him intently. "You were abandoned by your family, correct?"

"You recall correctly, milady."

She approached him, drawing strikingly close. Once close enough, she nodded swiftly.

"Then I guess we're two birds of a feather."

"You're not abandoned, Lady Corrin. Your siblings all love you very much, but they cannot stay for long due to time constraints," he replied, but in the meantime, he watched her head slowly sink.

"They won't want to see me ever again, not after what happened a few weeks ago." Her gaze dulled. "I don't know why I get angry so easily. I just... I feel as though I lose control of myself. As though I'm not me anymore." She studied her palms, elegant and slender. "I always feel this... this force coursing through my veins. I want to throw things. Destroy. Shout. Scream. It feels so good to release it. It makes me forget things, even who I am. I almost don't care about who I am. I just want to forget everything and become someone else."

He was only able to muster an easy smile.

"Don't give into it," he said simply. "I cannot bare the thought of losing my master."

She tried to smile back.

"You won't be losing much."

"Nonsense." He swiftly dipped his head. "Perhaps I should remind you: I live to serve you and only you."

"Oh really? Then let's halt this conversation and instead take our midday tea."

He, of course, did not beg to differ.

An anger. Corrin spoke of an uncontrollable anger that could make her forget herself. Based on the way she described it, it sounded as though it affected her like a drug. It pleased her for the moment, but left her in despair when there was nothing but wreckage. Jakob was interested in finding some sort of way to do something about it, regardless of the means by which he had to abide. Before he could do such a thing, of course, he would have to learn more about what made her upset.

These were the things on his mind one night while toiling away in Corrin's chambers. He fluffed new sheets over the massive bed, making multiple laps around it to tuck everything into place. His liege would be found in the neighboring room, cleaning herself in the bath. Occasionally, she would call for a toiletry. The aura about the room had grown tranquil, as promised by the breeze that swept inside through the open window. When the curtain ruffled, he took a deep breath of the night air. It was sweet and forgiving, inviting him to take more. He was happy to oblige.

Then came a moment in which that goodness dropped. It went away in a matter of seconds, and Jakob swiftly recognized it. He halted his job, which had him release a comforter still balled up on the floor. Careful eyes studied the window, which was open a smidgen more than he recalled it to be minutes in the past. Suddenly alert, his hand dove to retrieve a dagger hiding beneath his penguin tail.

He then made the mistake of scanning the room, which demanded that he turn his back on the window. From the outside darted a flash, a flash which lodged itself into his back. He released a yelp as he whipped around, blade born. Behind him, crawling inside from the window, he met an unwelcome visitor. Nothing could be said about him besides his masculinity, dark clothing, and an eerie mask that shielded the lower half of his face. Upon studying him, Jakob tensed.

A Hoshidan ninja.

"You!" he called angrily, ignoring the pain in his back. The weapon, likely a shuriken, barely missed his spine. Without anything more to say, he tossed his dagger, and its tip soared toward the intruder. Ultimately, to Jakob's dismay, he discovered that his opponent was far faster than he initially figured. Surprised at the man's reflexes, his hand was delayed to draw another blade. He only had two in his arsenal, and one had just escaped out the window. If he was going to make sure this man did not reach Corrin, he had to be conservative. This was unfortunate, for the ninja seemed to have come far more prepared than he; from a satchel, he withdrew three additional shuriken, all of which he promptly tossed at him. Not nearly as fast, Jakob could not dodge in time. Two struck either of his shoulders, and the third barely whirred past his ear. A shatter from behind told him it instead hit a vase. Though hindered by pain, Jakob furrowed his brows and clutched his dagger tightly. Without a second thought, he charged at the man. When they clashed, he felt the sharpness of the shuriken dive deeper into him.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to pass," he croaked. The man did not answer. Their eyes locked, infernos burning deep in the darkness of their pupils. They struggled for a while, but just when it seemed like Jakob had gained the upper hand, prepared to drive a blade in his side, he felt his muscles lock. He gasped, for his strength left him; with every attempt to exert force, his body tingled with numbness. Finally, it came to the point where he melted to his knees, struggling to breathe. Though he was victor, the ninja said not a word. He approached Jakob's back, where he dug the shuriken from his muscles.

"Dash it all... You must have poisoned your weapon," Jakob hissed, cringing. "Your tricks are... dirty..."

"Not nearly as dirty as you, Nohrian scum," the stranger growled back. It was with that last note, he began to walk away, leaving Jakob behind... but not without trouble, however, for soon he would find his ankle grabbed by a weakening hand. Jakob looked up at him, huffing his fury.

"If you are to call me scum, dispose of me as such. A true man finishes his fights."

He saw the fire in the man's eyes as he turned around, fishing one last shuriken from his bag.

"As you wish," he replied. Before he could comply, a voice stopped him.

"Jakob!"

They both turned their heads. Corrin was there, swaddled in a towel. She rushed toward the stranger, tackling him before he could react. They fell to the ground, his liege beating whatever parts of his face she could reach. Underneath her, the intruder wrestled to break free. It did not come with a hefty price, for he, with his thick arms, threw her off easily. She went quite a distance before hitting the ground not too far from Jakob, groaning upon impact.

The rest was all a blur.

The ninja had distanced himself, armed with his projectiles, prepared to fire at Corrin. Having noticed this, Jakob released a shout that urged what control was left within him to hurl his body before her. His actions worked, his belly acting as a shield. Upon landing on the floor again, this time with a fourth injury, he could do nothing but howl. He felt Corrin's hands take his head, shaking it, urging him to get up, tears building in the brim of her eyes.

"D-Don't fret, milady... I'll be... absolutely fine..." But deep down, he was confident his words were lies. His body would not move at all, paralyzed by a mysterious force. His breath grew faster, yet each gulp left him needing more. He heard her weep. She wept painfully loud...

And suddenly, he thought he heard her tone deepening. It became steep, rumbling in her throat. No. It was not his thoughts. It was real. She really was getting a deeper voice. Each heave became more growl-like, and growls soon morphed into roars. He saw nothing, seeing that his back was turned to her, but he felt a dark aura gather. The roars became less human, the hands cradling his head lengthened, nails shaping into claws sharper than his daggers. He gasped then, watching as a tall reptilian leg stepped over his body. The torso of a beast hovered over his head, a lengthy tail swishing back and forth.

Above him, he was sure, stood a majestic beast, silver as a blade, white as fresh snow, black as an abyss. Its antlers grew jagged, almost brushing against the ceiling, and its jaw hung open, displaying razor sharp teeth. The sight itself made him tremble, even though it was not he that the beast had fixed its furious gaze toward.

"M-Milady?" he squeaked. The beast did not seem to notice. It continued to walk, approaching the intruder. Its wings spread. The ninja, stunned, could do nothing but take a step back before readying another shuriken. No matter its sharpness, however, it had no effect on the beast; they bounced off its metallic scales. With victory in sight, the creature rammed the intruder into the wall with its sharp horns, evoking a cry. No matter how hard he shouted for mercy, no matter how much he begged, his pain would not be relieved. The beast held him still, stomping a foot on the ground. Only when the intruder ceased to move or call was he set free. He fell on the floor, where his motionless body was observed by the monster. It roared in his pain-stained face angrily before it proceeded to knock it around, assured of his end.

When the monster was done, it turned to Jakob, who lay still on the ground, hopelessly watching as he trembled. Its footsteps, light and stealthy as a feather, drew near to him, lining its face to his. For what seemed like forever, the two locked eyes, the top stoic and unreadable, the bottom still and terrified. Well... He was terrified until he felt the creature's cheek nuzzle against his. Before anything more could happen, there came a steady glow from the beast's core, and with time, that light became brighter, blinding almost. Jakob shielded his eyes with his lids, releasing a subtle groan.

When such a light finally died down, Jakob did not find the beast hovering over him. Instead, in its place was the feminine frame of Corrin. She was sprawled atop him, eyes closed and her breaths deep. The towel was gone. Her long white hair trailed down her barren back, tangled, but still wet. She did not move nor make so much as a sound, promising him that she was not conscious. The most he could do was lean his head back, then muster the loudest shout he could make, calling for help.

He had spent a good while in recovery, seldom visited by anyone. Every once in a blue moon, he would have a familiar face, such as Gunter or Felicia, bring him a meal. Gunter, who came unexpectedly one day, decided to sit beside his bed. He gazed at him, blinking at every other interval.

"It looks like you've grown more wrinkles, old man."

"It's a pleasure to see you as well." Gunter cleared his throat. "So, a Hoshidan ninja, hm? They seem to be talented when it comes to slipping through security. They're no different than bugs; no matter what you do to keep them out, they always find a way in through the cracks."

Jakob released a huff.

"He was a quick bug at that," he murmured. "He managed to strike me four times, and he dodged my counters as though they were nothing."

"Perhaps you should take this ambush as a wake up call. Though you are skilled, you are not as good of a fighter as you think you are."

"Hmph. Well, I believe he would have made trash out of _you_ , old man," he retorted.

"It's good to see you're feeling fine in that case. You don't sound in pain at all, talking like that." He cracked a slight smile. "If that's the case, I would suggest going to see Lady Corrin. She's been asking for you."

In a matter of seconds, Jakob rose from his bed, gasping in the meantime. There was a slight sting in his belly, which he pushed to ignore.

"For goodness' sake, why haven't you said Lady Corrin has wanted to see me?"

Gunter raised a brow.

"What else could I have said? You were recovering from your wound. There's no need to worry. Lady Corrin didn't throw a fit at all."

"You know me better, old man. If Lady Corrin were thirsty and I were dying of dehydration, I would gladly fetch her a glass of water. A few minor stabs are nothing in comparison." He removed his sleeping flannel, revealing a trio of casts snaked around his body. He did not take off his top for show and tell, however. He swiftly began to dress himself in preparation for work.

"I'll remember for next time," Gunter murmured. "By the way, I applaud you. You did an excellent job defending Lady Corrin whether you had a few metal stars stuck in you or not. Regardless of injuries sustained, defeating an enemy is a victory in itself."

While slipping on his slacks, Jakob paused, staring at the floor.

So. Nobody was aware of what happened all that time ago. Nobody knew that it was not he that repelled the intruder. It was Corrin. Corrin turned into something! A beast of legendary proportions; a dragon whose scales grew harder than metal. He remembered it all like the back of his hand: the fear coursing through his body, the power emitting from her massive appendages, the force swinging along with her tail. He started to wonder if the sight was an illusion, a side effect of the poison rubbed on the shuriken that struck him in the back.

Then again, it seemed too real to have possibly been a dream.

Corrin did not appear to have any recollection of her transformation, he came to discover when he paid her a visit. He pushed open the door to her room once the sky turned black, peeking in cautiously. It had been cleaned thanks to the maids; furniture that had been knocked over was back where it belonged, and a new vase replaced the one that had broke. Thus far, everything appeared normal. Having nothing to worry about, he strode inside, making his way to the mighty bed in the center. The thick canopy did not let him see far, so he called out.

"Milady? You requested me?"

He saw her head stick out of the curtain in a matter of seconds, revealing a chipper face in the dark. She leapt out of it as though it were a prison, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing against one of his wounds unintentionally. He released a grunt but still returned the embrace.

"There you are, Jakob," she said. "I've been worried for you."

"No need. The wounds were not serious."

"I've been wanting to thank you, Jakob. I can't thank you enough. Had you not been there to protect me... I surely would have died. Thank you so much." Her arms tightened, making him cringe again. Even so, through the stinging, he could not help but smile. Never had Corrin greeted him with such exuberance.

"I simply fulfilled my duties. You shouldn't thank me. As your royal retainer, I consider it an honor. If anything, I should thank you for the privilege."

Corrin had nothing to say to that. Instead, she changed the subject by sliding her hand down his arm, intertwining her fingers with his.

"Come and eat dinner with me," she urged. "I'll share."

He followed her when she began to drag him, but, in the meantime, he gardened a stale expression. She did not seem to remember what happened at all, thinking he was the big hero of the day. Should he tell her? How would he even bring such a thing up?

 _"Milady, it was not I who suppressed the threat of the Hoshidan ninja. It was you, for when you became upset enough, you transformed into a reptilian beast. Would you care for a second cup of tea?"_

Corrin seated him at her small table before going to wheel a cart of dinner, assumably brought by someone else, to him. When he started to stand to serve her, she pushed him back down on the chair, giving him a slight smile.

"You're still not feeling well, so let me serve you."

"Absolutely not. It is my duty to serve you, not to eat your food."

"Oh? Will you obey a direct order to preserve that claim?" The question silenced him, leaving him still. He watched as she set down an extra plate before him, scraping on a pile of roast from her own. There came a point where he cringed, clearing his throat.

"M-Milady, that's plenty. Give me no more than a quarter."

"You have to be hungry, though."

"Not much. I have been doing nothing recently, so I have exhausted myself little. I do not need nearly as much as I normally would."

He watched her pause in hesitation, gazing at him. It was not long before she then continued with her pouring, stopping when her plate had only half of what it had before. The sight had him sigh.

"I would like to share a full meal with you. Not a snack."

Though baffled, he nodded subtly.

"As you wish," he muttered. Nothing terribly interesting occurred during their meal. They kept quiet, clinking their forks on their plates, listening to their teeth squeak across smooth porcelain. The meal itself was pleasant; the roast had been cooked to ideal tenderness, golden beneath the candlelight, and savory. About halfway through, he could not help himself from looking up at her. "Is there a particular reason for wanting my presence?"

"Perhaps."

"May I ask what that reason is?"

"I don't think I should tell you. I want to see you figure it out yourself."

He set down his fork.

What an ill placement, being flooded with such curiosity. It teased him, even tortured him, leaving him feeling endlessly unsatisfied. He remained this way even as they finished up their meal, making their way to the bed. They fell into their usual routine; he picked up the heavy doorstop on the nightstand, turning to the page where a ribbon marked his place. Corrin lay near to him, drawing closer, crossing a leg over the other. Her breath grew dangerously slow. Next to the glow of a light, he cleared his throat, running his eyes over small lines of text. By the time he was done, when he figured Corrin was asleep, he closed the binding gently. Tiredly, he set his head against a pillow, blanketing his eyes lightly. It was only a few minutes later, Corrin picked up her head, setting an intent gaze upon him.

"So? Have you figured it out yet?"

He looked at her.

"Of what do you speak, milady?"

"You wanted to know why I've been asking for you. Have you figured it out yet?"

"I regret to say I have not."

He heard an easy sigh as she eased herself over to the end table on her side of the bed. A wick of breath plunged the room into a tangible darkness, thicker than the pages of the doorstop. Upon settling back down, nestling beside him, she breathed:

"Do you want me to show you now?"

"Did you still want me to try to discover things on my own?"

Her body eased just a smidgen closer.

"I'm tired of waiting."

"Please then, do as you wish."

He said such a thing under the impression that the reason would be silly, something that would make them laugh or roll their eyes. No. It was not that simple. Through the darkness of the room, the darkness that could not be seen through, he felt a chill tingle down his spine. A breath met his ear. It was warm. Oh so warm. Thick. Thicker than the dark. A pair of moist lips rested on his cheek, lingering. They were soft. Plump. Smooth. They almost burned. The burn traveled all over his skin, vanquishing his nerves, streaming down his neck and burrowing into his chest. It struck his heart, stilling it. He did not move.

He almost did not notice when those lips left him, departing like a butterfly whose legs were light and weightless. Corrin breathed softly, burying the tip of her nose, cold as ice, in the crook of his sweaty neck.

"I see you as more than a servant."

He quivered, absentmindedly running his tongue over his lips. When he realized what he had done, he felt himself turn green, disgusted with himself.

"M-Milady, Corrin. This... I am still your servant. I am your butler. Your retainer." He rose from laying, shivering. "This is the very definition of inappropriate. I can't... I can't play along to such a disgraceful tune."

Corrin became quiet.

"Is that how you see it?"

"I fear so, milady. These things would taint our relationship as master and butler. I apologize profusely."

"If that's so, you can leave. I won't make you stay if it's awkward." Her tone was heavy.

It was that heaviness that drove him out of the room, leaning against closed doors, heaving nervously, a hand over his chest. Even when he returned to his own bed, he continued to quiver, unable to venture into the realm of sleep.

According to Flora and Felicia, Corrin had not departed from her bed for days, barricading herself behind the forbidden canopy. Food would not be eaten, even when it was left alone with her. She did not speak, not even to answer a question. She would not whisper. Her tub was never wet, for she never went to wash. Her room remained stuffy, growing thick with a negative aura. Besides an obvious poor mood, many began to wonder if she was well. Their fear of prying open the canopy kept them from investigating.

Jakob was the only one who knew why, and he was running from it. Each morning, he would wake up, and the first thing he would do was gaze at himself in the mirror, watching as the bags beneath his eyes grew darker with every passing day. He did not dress with as much pride as he had before, and the tea he made was not nearly as sweet. Never did he call out to Corrin when he delivered her meals, nor peer beyond the canopy. He would flee the room like a coward, flustered beyond belief. His behavior, off as a healthy leper, quickly became noticed amongst his fellow servants. Few attempted to pry, and he was not hospitable to those with curiosity. None were more worried than an elderly Gunter, who approached him in the hall one day.

"Something is eating you alive," he observed.

"And your business doesn't mingle within it," Jakob retorted snappily.

"Rest assured, I won't push you to talk. I know how young people are when it comes to privacy. Instead, I've come to do nothing more than make a recommendation: take a long bath tonight and deal with whatever it is that bothers you. It has worked like a charm for me for years."

Even though Jakob did not act as though he was willing to give the advice a try, that was exactly what he did that night. He soaked in warm water for what felt like hours, stretching his arms along the rim of the tub, leaning his head back. He spent that time gazing at the ceiling, allowing his eyes to dull. He thought about her. About the burning that erupted in his cheek. Not even a few minutes worth into such thoughts had his hands bolt into the water, a flush spreading across his cheek. He shook his head profusely, almost infuriated.

"Spend all your life training in discipline and you still think these things?" he hissed to himself. "Shame on you, you who calls yourself a servant."

Why was he ashamed? It was a brilliant question: he had a revelation.

Was the love Corrin showered upon him unrequited? It appeared not. Never did he see himself allowing such disgraceful things to plague his mind, much less humoring it. Yes... He humored such thoughts. Thoughts of pecking her soft flesh, running his hands through her soft hair endlessly... He could not handle it. Not for long. That was his reason for jumping out of the warmth and making his way to a pail of cold water. Without a second thought, he dunked his head inside over and over again, only departing when his lungs burned for breath.

"Absolutely not," he whispered, water trickling down and off his lips. "You are not to go back there. Not with the intentions you have. It is terribly inappropriate and against the nature of a gentleman."

His eyes met the reflection in the water. He saw a man, young, with long silver hair. Unblemished skin. Dolphin gray irises. A graceful young man, hardened by professionalism.

 _"True. But is it also gentlemanly to leave a woman alone with the aches of desire? You've felt it before, so do not deny that they are painful,"_ it asked.

"Hush," he argued.

 _"Stop running. Embrace it. If it is also what she wishes for, where is the inappropriateness? What shame is there in a man loving the woman he-"_

The reflection was ruined by the swipe of a hand, ruffling the water. Jakob rose, clenching his fists as he walked away, heading for the towel hanging on the wall. When he dressed, he dressed slowly, occasionally glancing at the mirror. He found himself in his suit in the final glance, fastening a teal brooch on his lapel. In contrast to the past few days, he looked sharp again, prideful in his appearance. Why did he look like this? Obviously, because he would soon find himself in the only room on the utmost floor, standing before a wall of curtain that hid a bed. A strike of a match allowed him to see before it was passed on to a candlestick. He paused, watching as she did not emerge despite having an unexpected visitor. The sight tugged his eyes to the floor, demanding a heave.

"Milady," he whispered. "Pardon my intrusion, I beg, but..." He trailed off, heaving. "I would be ever grateful to have your audience." As expected, he received no response. "You have my utmost apologies, Lady Corrin, for what I am about to do. It must be done. I urge you not to reign fury upon me." His hand reached out to softly grab the edge of the canopy, which he gently tugged to the side. Light spilled inside as he peeked his head around the fabric. The sight made his eyes widen.

Instead of a girl with long white hair, he found something else: a beast curled up on the mattress, hiding its dipped face behind its tail. It remained still for the most part, its back rising and falling with the patterns of breath. When it finally took notice of him, it lifted its head, directing its gaze to him. For just a moment, he was at a loss for words, tempted to panic. The time it took for them to exchange looks was enough to allow him to recollect himself. One of his feet anchored the other's ankle, slipping one boot off at a time before climbing onto the bed, allowing the canopy to close behind him. He crawled across the mess of unmade blankets, watching as the beast, laying on its side, maintained an eye upon him. When he sat himself steadily before it, he crossed his legs and observed its might. From its mouth came a slight mewl, a somber cry as it stretched its long neck to lay its jaw in his lap. He was allowed to place his hand on its crown, migrating down to its cheeks. He took a while to pet its armored scales.

"My Lady Corrin," he mused. "Why are you like this?" When his fingers ran over a certain patch on the jaw, a purr rumbled in her throat, her neck vibrating on his leg. He saw her tail, lean and great, begin to fidget, flowing up and down like an irritated mouser's. She didn't appear irritated in the slightest, though. She relaxed, lowering her wings to sprawl out over the mattress, their ends melting over the edges. He too felt his shoulders unknot. "I would have never guessed you to be something so mighty... I should best watch my behavior closer than ever before, shouldn't I?" Her head raised, having his hands slide off of her cheeks. She looked at him, releasing a louder, but quick, purr. She brought her head closer, lips parting to grant freedom to a slimy tongue. It ran over his cheek gently, sure not to make a mess. Though he cringed at the sensation, he smiled, taking her jaw again as it hovered over him. "Yes, I know. That's why I've come to speak with you. Won't you listen?" The tongue granted him permission.

Before he could say a word onward, he was surprised to watch her head hover over his shoulder. A set of teeth clamped the back of his suit before picking him up. Though alarmed, Jakob remained still, fearing his struggles would rip his clothes, or even worse, upset her. He was not in the air for long anyhow, for Corrin set him down on the bed again, leaning his back against the hard scales covering her belly. Her head returned to his presence, laying her chin on the bed. A sure sign that her ears were open and receptive. To this, he gladly made himself comfortable.

"What I did the other night was cowardly, milady," he murmured. "To put my work above the delicacy of your feelings... is the worst offense I could have made against you. I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I've come tonight to tell you that I have felt the same as you for a long, long while. It is the sole reason for my loyalty. You can choose to accept or deny these confessions, milady, and I will serve you no different than before. My loyalty is utmost, Lady Corrin, because I love you with all my being."

She released a happy roar and returned for another lick. She nuzzled against him, butting his head gently over and over again. He took every shower of affection like a champ, not that it was a challenge. He returned them each with a stroke of the neck or cheek, feeling her purrs grow more furious by the moment. At last there came the time when she stilled and set her forehead against his. His hands slid up to take her by the head. His eyes delved into hers.

"Milady, return to me so that I may kiss you properly."

She closed her eyes contently. She slowed her breath. He began to wonder if his requests were even possible. Then again, if she transformed into this beastly form when she was angry, it would make sense that she would return to normal any moment. To his relief, he was correct, for a familiar glow grew from her core, brightening until he became forced to avert his eyes. When it died down, it returned to faintness. Left behind was the small frame of Corrin, looking up at him with her curious red eyes.

"I didn't know you felt this way about me," she whispered. He smiled in return, warm as a fire in a cold, unforgiving night.

"Of course." He leaned forward then, happily placing his lips on hers, passionately remaining there until breath demanded they part. Even so, when they did part, Corrin was quick to close the gap again, pressing her belly against his until his back hit the comforter. They remained that way for what felt like forever.

"I love you," she whispered. "You make this prison feel so much more at home."

And with that, thus marked the day Corrin grew tranquil. She would not be angry if someone brought her the wrong thing for breakfast or throw things should nothing turn her way. Suddenly, she was happy. Content. Many would come to wonder what caused such a change in the girl. It was as though she had been kidnapped and replaced with a replica. Why, even the Nohrian siblings took note of her sudden spike in mood.

Not that anyone was really complaining...

Only one would come to know the truth: the elderly Gunter. He crept into Corrin's room one morning, quiet as a mouse. He strode over to the bed concealed by a canopy, which he observed intently... before he looked down. Peeking out from behind the curtains, he barely made out the tips of a familiar pair of boots. They surely were not Corrin's, seeing that she hated to wear shoes. He huffed then, smiling awkwardly as he made his way back to the door, starting to chuckle.

"Don't you two become too frisky."

Though he received no response, he knew they listened.


End file.
